


Always Fight For Freedom

by TheWolfWithinMe



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Alternative ending to RDR1, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWithinMe/pseuds/TheWolfWithinMe
Summary: A different ending to RDR 1.With Arthur.But just as painful.





	Always Fight For Freedom

“I got a plan, John.”

Dutch was stood on the snowy ledge, inches from death, and aside from a quick glance to the rocky depths below, he didn’t seem panicked. Or scared.

It was as though he had accepted his fate. Knew it was coming. 

“You always have a plan, Dutch.” 

John’s grip on the gun tightened, though his hands trembled. A small gesture indicating that he really didn’t want to be here. 

Dutch saw it too. 

“But this one’s a good one.” 

The weapon in his own hand got thrown into the abyss, landing with a very faint thud. He was at John’s mercy now. And still unafraid. 

“I doubt that...”

The words didn’t come from John. The voice was rougher, deeper and oh so familiar to Dutch’s ears. 

It was a sound he had dreamed about, hallucinated about and /cried/ about for years. And yet, here it was.

Stepping into view and standing beside John, was Arthur Morgan. 

John glanced between both men, his heart constricting at each of their expressions. 

Arthur looked as though he would break down and cry at any minute, his lip trembling as he visibly stopped himself from approaching Dutch. 

And Dutch was staring back at him with a mixture of disbelief, guilt, regret, sorrow and a little bit of hope. 

John knew both men were close, knew it from the moment Dutch and Hosea had taken him in at twelve. They would stare too long, sit too close, spend nights together just holding each other when jobs went wrong, and even when Arthur grew up and dated other people, Dutch remained his number one priority. 

Yet seeing their bond survive now, so many years later, made even /him/ emotional. 

But being on top of a mountain wasn’t really the time for emotions.   
Not when John had a job to do. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He hissed at Arthur. 

“I was never very good at following orders from /them/.” Arthur shrugged in response, eyes still locked on Dutch.

He so desperately wanted to close the gap between him and the older man and pull him to safety. But he couldn’t risk Dutch backing away and tumbling off the damn cliff. 

“It’s me...” He tried, voice soft. 

“You’re dead... I-I saw you die.” 

Arthur shook his head. He practically radiated patience and yet only when Dutch was concerned. 

“You walked away before I died... and then... then Micah left.” His voice was trembling now, words getting stuck in his throat. “And I wanted nothing more than to get up and go after you. To just fucking hold you and say that... I forgive you.”

He saw John fidget from the corner of his eye. 

“Micah...I...” Dutch was struggling as much as Arthur was.

“You shot him... I know. A better death than he deserved but at least he’s gone.”

“Arthur...” It was John speaking now. “I have to end this. They have my family.”

“And you’re about to kill the last of mine.” 

John would always be his brother but Dutch... Dutch was different. 

“Arthur, I have no choice!”

“There’s always a choice!”

And he finally moved, now standing directly between John and Dutch.   
One hand reached out to wrap around Dutch’s wrist and he firmly pulled him away from the edge and into his arms. The older man didn’t even fight or struggle, instead he just clung onto the front of Arthur’s shirt. 

“They want him dead, Arthur. You can’t win this fight!”

“You fight for your family, John, and I’ll fight for mine. The government has fucked with our lives for too long now, and I’ve had enough.”

Keeping a firm grip on Dutch, he nudged his way past John and headed back into the caves, his free hand clutching a gun.

He’d live as an Outlaw, and damn well die as one too.


End file.
